


Fade Away

by urisarang



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, I promise, M/M, Murray blames himself, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Hatred, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 00:38:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19841887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urisarang/pseuds/urisarang
Summary: He knows this story, knows how it ends and yet every time his memory tortures him with it he relives it as if it were the first time.  His heart aches for the man with the innocent smile and the child like wonder at beating the rigged system.  He knows in the next second that everything will change and he's helpless to stop it.





	Fade Away

**Author's Note:**

> Was in a bad head space all day and so this happened. 
> 
> Worry not! I may be an asshole who writes angst, but its got a happy ending. :)

It's in slow motion, as if his mind wants to squeeze every drop of pain out of the worst memory of his life. As if seeing it happen once, twice, a hundred times at night wasn't enough. Night after night the scene plays on repeat, the images burned behind his eyes for all time.

He knows this story, knows how it ends and yet every time his memory tortures him with it he relives it as if it were the first time. His heart aches for the man with the innocent smile and the child like wonder at beating the rigged system. If only his memory could stop here, in this perfect moment and keep the man safe from the cruelty of his rigged life.

Murray was so happy for him, watching the grown man buzz with the excitement of a child was endearing. Infectious, and in the end? Deadly.

If he had not let his guard down, if he had taken the threat and real life danger more seriously could this tragedy had been prevented? 

Would he not have to watch night, after night, as the innocence dies in those eyes? Could he have kept that sweet smile from slipping of his face as pain over took him?

These questions haunt Murray and he feels like it is his penance for failing the poor man. He's been told countless times how this wasn't his fault. That he can't keep blaming himself, but as he watches as the stupid stuffed animal falls away and a red flower blossoms on the white shirt and scared eyes meet his own begging for this to have not happened. 

He knows that they are wrong and that it was all on him. 

God, the man was scared to be left alone, but what did Murray do? He waved it off. Ignored the worried look and the half aborted lurch into his personal space as if the man was afraid to be left alone. Murray knew this - he fucking knew it and he left anyway.

And for what? A couple of corn dogs? He did it to let his friend experience the fair without influence, to show his trust in the other man. He wanted- He just wanted-

What he wanted didn't matter. What mattered, was lifting his blood stained hand and staring at it in confusion. What mattered was turning his head to stare at Murray, as if the eccentric could make this better.

Murray cries out his name in panic and feels himself reach out to catch the man before he hits the ground. He grabs and holds on tight putting pressure on the wound as he half drags, half carries all 170lbs of the injured man to a dark, quiet place between stalls. A perfect place to hide from more Russians - a perfect place to watch as the light fades from someone's eyes.

Pain twists the mans face as the shock wears off, because of course he can't be allowed to pass painlessly. Murray pulls his hand off the wound, his fingers are coated in red. The consistency of the fluid is strange, thicker than water and sticky even when wet. 

He didn't notice those details when it had happened, but he's had plenty of time to notice the little things during his almost nightly horror film rolls. Murray watches the man's blood slide down between his fingers, just as the man's life is slipping away. Murray's eyes flick between the growing red and the tortured expression unsure which hurts more to watch.

Agonizingly slow Murray takes off his over shirt in a feeble attempt to staunch the flow of blood. He presses it against the wound with both hands hard enough that the curly haired man lets out a grunt. Oh how Murray hated causing that sound, the soft spoken engineer should never have to sound that way - but it had to be done.

"Keep pressure on it" His voice is weak and unsure to his own ears, he can only imagine how little comfort those hollow words bring the dying man in his final moments. "I'll go get help." He lies, not on purpose but it was a lie all the same.

The man's blood stained hand not loosely holding the shirt reached up for Murray. His brown eyes begged Murray to not leave, so afraid and in pain. No one wants to die alone, but Murray couldn't stay. He had to get help, there was too much blood and so he left.

He left him there. All alone as his body grew weaker, as the warmth of life bled out of him onto the cold grass. 

He never meant to lie, he wanted to save him. He had to save him, but all he could find was Joyce. The woman had heart and determination the likes of which Murray had not previously known, but what good is that for someone shot? What drove Murray to find them instead of a doctor?

Was it fear that it would bring the attentions of the Russians down on himself? Was he so afraid for himself, such a coward that he would sacrifice that amazing man's life for his own? Why didn't he scream at the top of his lungs? Why didn't he really try to save him?

Each step back with Joyce at his side echoes like the drums of certain doom. He was barely gone a minute, he had told himself nothing bad could happen in just a minute right?

Its not like the last time he left Alexei alone for only a few minutes anything bad happened right? God was he a fool. All his life talking down to others about knowing the truth behind the lies, about how much more he knew than everyone else. Turns out he didn't know jack shit about the real world.

One foot crunches into the grass after another until the shadowed gap between stalls comes into view. He doesn't want to see this, not again. He struggles against the dream, he can't do this. He can't see Alexei propped up against the stall head bowed in death. He thrashes internally as he takes the last step that will reveal the final resting place of their brave comrade.

His thrashing rips him out of the nightmare with a jolt, his eyes fly open to see his familiar dark room instead of where it happened. His heart thunders in his chest and he sucks in large gasps of air with panic still tearing through him. He tries to calm his breathing but with his violent reentry to the land of the waking has already done it's damage.

The bundled form next to him mumbles something incoherently into his pillow. A large hand finds its way out of those bundled blankets reaching blindly backwards for the gasping man next to him. Murray grabs onto that hand, his life line. 

The bundled form mumbles out Murray's name before sitting up and letting the blankets fall away like he had let the shirt fall out of his hands instead of keeping pressure. Something short circuits in Murray's brain at the sight, as if he is trapped inside a waking nightmare of his own creation.

The frantic eccentric shoots a hand out to check the other man's stomach. He feels dry warmth, not the sticky warmth of blood he feared to ever feel again.

"My Jagadka" Alexei's sleep rough voice says soothingly. "It's okay, I'm here. Shhh, it was just a nightmare, we are safe." Alexei pulls Murray into an embrace, rubbing his back trying to calm his lover.

"No," Murray denies shaking his head and pulling out of the comforting embrace he doesn't deserve. "It's not okay. You nearly died Lyosha, I almost let you die. You would have died had we not gotten lucky." 

"You still torture yourself with this? Its been nearly a week since your last nightmare, I had hoped. . ." Alexei sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. "You've been hiding them haven't you?"

"I don't regret it, not any moment of what happened." Alexei continues, "It would be foolish to curse the luck that brought us together, no matter the pain. Tell me Murray, if you had not had to hold my hand as the medic stitched me up would you have confessed? 

"If you had not watched over me pale and near death in the hospital, would you have ever been brave enough to take my hand? Only by almost losing something can you truly understand it's value. Look me in the eyes and tell me you wouldn't have hidden behind friendship had that not happened?

"You can't, I cannot either. You know well how men who lie with other men are dealt with in Russia. I, too, would have hidden my feelings until the end of our days if I had not seen the love shinning in your eyes as you watched over me when I was hurting and needing someone the most. 

"No, you don't get to beat yourself up over this anymore. I'm grateful for this scar." Alexei presses Murray's hand against the raised flesh firmly. 

"I would relive that night over again and again to have this." Alexei raises Murray's hand to kiss his fingers. "To have you. Please stop this my love, it hurts me to watch you beat yourself up over this." 

"Alexei. . ." Murray wants to protest, it is his penance to carry this guilt - but the look of suffering in his lover's eyes undoes him. 

He really is causing his lover pain, those lips were meant for smiles and grins. Not frowns, and never pain. It's sometimes hard to accept that someone as good, pure, and kind as Alexei actually exists in this dark world. That this mythical creature could love a man like Murray? It's like a fairy tale.

Perhaps all this world is a fairy tale, but the old kind that were dark and full of death. Maybe the darkness of their beginning was only so deep because the end of their tale would be so bright. 

There is a poetic balance to it, as if they had to pay upfront in suffering before they would be allowed their happily ever after. 

"I'll try." It's the most Murray can promise, "I will try." He is rewarded with a beautiful smile from his lover. Maybe he can learn to forgive himself, slowly, if it means more of those smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Heck forgot to add translation of Russian term for endearment I acquired from the all knowing internet:
> 
> Jagadka - Darling/sweetie (literally small berry)
> 
> edit 2: I always hated the title I settled on at 3am, finally got assed enough to change it.


End file.
